Tag Archives: democracy

Minding the Voting “Gap”

Roslings’ book Factfulness begins with a sword swallower. As a child, senior author Hans Rosling loved going to the circus. He was intrigued by the sword swallowers he sometimes saw there. Later, after he’d trained as a medical doctor, he learned that the anatomy of most people’s throats allows for “swallowing” a flat object by thrusting the chin forward. (Please don’t try this at home.) He began to understand that many phenomena we regard as impossible are manageable, given a set of gradually developed knowledge and skills. Throughout the rest of his work life, he tried to develop further his openness to manageable progress, along with further knowledge and skills. 

Rosling spent much of his career as a health researcher in a variety of countries in sub-Saharan Africa and in Asia. During his travels he saw over time how some areas had improved substantially in the goods and services people had access to. When he later returned to his home country of Sweden and taught local medical students, he realized that many of his students had an outmoded view of the world—thinking it consisted only of “rich” countries and “poor” ones. 

During the latter part of his career, Hans made it part of his life’s work to get people to take a more nuanced, changeable view of the range of global incomes and living conditions. The Roslings characterize the tendency we all have to simplify lots of different aspects of life (rich/poor, big family/small family, limited education/full education) as binary, with no in-between stages, focussing solely or primarily on the extremes. They call this the “gap” instinct. 

It took Hans Rosling most of two decades to help persuade the World Bank to group nations into multiple income levels, rather than just characterizing countries as either “developed,” or “developing.” He theorizes that maybe changing the misconception of an unbridgeable gap between rich and poor countries was so hard because, “…human beings have a strong dramatic instinct toward binary thinking, a basic urge to divide things into two distinct groups, with nothing but an empty gap in between.”  

If you’ve followed some of my previous blog efforts, you’re likely aware that I am very wary of the “red state/blue state” gap, among other attempts to depict the American electorate as two extremes with little or nothing in between. Our politicians and our media do us a disservice when they characterize our beliefs or voting patterns that way. Even more damaging and dangerous is the tendency to characterize anyone with a set of beliefs or a voting pattern different from ours as somehow misguided or, even worse, evil. 

I don’t know how to counter this particular American “gap” tendency entirely—after all, our country has had the same two major political parties for about 150 years  (though what each party emphasizes or claims to believe has changed over time). To some extent, we all need to “clump” individuals into groups, especially when we are talking about large populations. There are over 8 billion humans currently alive, so the effort to see each human individual “whole” is beyond even the most sophisticated analysis. However, we can resist the tendency to reduce every issue, every grouping, to just a binary choice. 

Some other countries already practice one small step in the direction of more nuanced voting patterns:  as of 2014, the CIA World Fact Book listed 22 countries with a total population of nearly 750 million where voting is required of citizens over the age of 18. Most widely known among these is Australia, where, if you fail to participate in an election, you will be liable for a small fine. Brazil, with over 200 million people, also requires voting, as do Costa Rica, Greece, Mexico, and Thailand, among others. Practicing democracy requires constructive engagement, and voting, made as convenient and easy as practical, is one measure of that engagement. Requiring everyone to vote doesn’t guarantee a 100% turnout, but it is something of an incentive. It can help reduce electoral polarization, especially in primary or off-year elections when U.S. turnout has often been weak, with mostly the more extreme partisans at either end of the political spectrum bothering to show up at the polls.

Other voting practices that can reduce either/or thinking may involve such things as multi-member districts, rank choice voting (sometimes called “instant run-offs”), non-partisan primaries, open primaries (allowing votes for candidates of other parties than the one you are registered in), ballot initiatives and referenda, and independent redistricting commissions. None are perfect tools. In the U.S., few have been tried at the national level. Multiple localities and states have experimented with a variety of these measures. Emphasizing local voting and local elections may be a partial antidote to our current fixation with officials at the national level. Further experimentation might help reduce partisan wrangling and government gridlock.   

While the “gap” instinct in characterizing voters and voting patterns may provide a way station in our journey toward more complete understanding, it’s a very fruitless place to get stuck.   

On Being a “Carter Democrat”

Jimmy Carter served as our nation’s 39th president from January 20, 1977 to January 20, 1981. I voted for him in 1976 and again in 1980. During his presidency and for a number of years after that, when asked about my political affiliation, I identified myself as a “Carter Democrat.” Today, October 1, 2024, Carter turns 100. For many, his contributions to global health and progress since his presidency have been even more impressive than his accomplishments while in office. In 1982, Jimmy and his wife Rosalynn co-founded the non-profit Carter Center. In 2002, Carter was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his persistent efforts to promote global health and to encourage peaceful solutions to difficult problems worldwide. For over 30 years, Jimmy and Rosalynn spent at least a week each year helping build quality low-cost housing with non-profit Habitat for Humanity. 

Since the beginning of the 21st century, my political trajectory has gradually diverged from official designation as a big-d “Democrat.” Turned off by increasingly shrill campaign entreaties and demonization of “the other side” from both major political parties, I now have “no political party affiliation.” However, I keep my voter registration up to date. I make it a point to vote in local, state, and national elections if at all possible, sometimes even voting absentee from places outside the U.S.

How I became a “Carter Democrat” and why I still consider myself one involves both timing and geography. In 1968, I cast my first vote in a presidential election for Richard Nixon. I believed his promises to help extricate the U.S. from involvement in the war in far-off Vietnam that his predecessor Lyndon Johnson had escalated. Partway through Nixon’s first term, in 1971, I moved from Baltimore to Vermont. I’d secured a job in its small capital city of Montpelier. The early 1970’s saw a lot of social ferment, along with burgeoning interest in caring for our natural environment. I was part of a trend of young, childless adults aiming to “go back to the land” after disenchantment with urban life.

Vermont was at the forefront of environmental legislation, including a 1970 comprehensive land use program, “Act 250,” designed to maintain Vermont’s rural flavor and natural beauty while allowing for economic growth. A different law passed at about the same time instituted graduated “pay to pollute” fees on companies who discharged waste into Vermont’s waterways. These legislative actions struck me as pragmatic efforts to deal with complex problems—rather than outright prohibitions, using financial incentives/disincentives to promote more environmentally sensitive behavior by both individuals and businesses. 

As Nixon’s first term progressed, I lost confidence in his Vietnam policies. By 1972, I had become thoroughly discouraged about the lack of U.S. progress there. I also thought Nixon insensitive on environmental matters, though in 1970 he had signed into law the National Environmental Policy Act after it had overwhelmingly passed both houses of Congress.

So in 1972, I voted for Democrat George McGovern. President Nixon won reelection in a landslide, though, with over 60% of the popular vote and all but two jurisdictions’ electoral votes. Meanwhile, my idyll in Vermont proved short-lived due to unemployment and underemployment. Late 1973 found me and my husband spending our severance pay on a low-budget trip down the Mississippi River valley in our small pickup truck. We were trying to put our lives back together, to figure out what to do next. 

Globally, in 1973-74 a group of oil exporting nations reduced their production levels and paused oil exports to the U.S. to retaliate for U.S. support of Israel in 1973’s Arab-Israeli war. This caused an “oil shock,” with the average price of gasoline rapidly rising over 30%. The crisis caught up with my husband and me when we were in a part of Louisiana with huge concentrations of refineries and oil transport facilities. Still, gasoline supplies were short. Tempers, too. Local gas stations sprouted long lines. Late autumn temperatures soared, threatening A/C-induced blackouts in an oil-dependent electricity grid. We were somewhat shaken by this evidence of American vulnerability to “oil blackmail.” Meanwhile, Nixon’s first vice president, former Maryland governor Spiro Agnew, was in December 1973 forced to resign after being charged with conspiracy, bribery, and tax evasion. Nixon quickly nominated Michigan Congressman Gerald Ford as Vice President. Ford was just as quickly confirmed by his Congressional colleagues. 

Partway through 1974, my husband and I found good-paying jobs in the mid-sized American city of Richmond, Virginia, where my younger sister then lived and had provided us with temporary housing. We gradually put the trauma of our job reversals and subsequent relocations behind us. Then came the Watergate scandal and Nixon’s August resignation from the presidency. It flummoxed me why someone who’d won reelection so convincingly would turn out to have been a cheat who’d tried to undermine the other party’s campaign. During Congressional hearings, Nixon’s efforts to distance himself from a botched June, 1972 break-in at the Democratic National Committee in Washington, D.C. gradually collapsed. My faith in our electoral system took a hit. Gerald Ford became president. 

By 1975, I was no longer paying much attention to national politics. I focussed instead on buying our first home, starting a family. I didn’t think Ford was a bad President, but I was troubled by his pardon of former President Nixon. When Jimmy Carter won the Democratic nomination for President in 1976, I was ready for a fresh face, a fresh approach. After all Nixon’s lies and evasions, Carter’s assertion that “I will never lie to you” sounded doubly refreshing. Our older son was born as Carter began his campaign; our younger son arrived partway through his term. I struggled to stay informed about local, state, and national issues while changing diapers and dreaming of some day reentering the paid work force. 

When the winter of 1976-77 turned out to be more severe than most, Carter’s early “fireside chat” (February 2, 1977) calling for energy conservation and small, shared sacrifices resonated with me. My earlier experience of two Vermont winters had given me considerable respect for the vagaries of weather. Richmond, Virginia typically has mild winters, but I’d made sure to install multiple sources of heat in our house—gas, electricity, plus an efficient wood stove in our largest room. I supported Carter’s efforts to diversify the American energy supply.

In the late 1970’s I continued my efforts to become a more responsible energy user. I improved our house’s insulation, grew more of our own food, increased my use of public transportation. A second “oil shock” in the wake of the 1979 Iranian Revolution impacted me less than most. I hoped people would recognize our need to reduce our nation’s oil dependence and to become better environmental stewards. I did my best to follow Carter’s lead, even when it involved some material sacrifice. To my dismay, the combination of energy difficulties, high inflation and unemployment, plus a lengthy U.S. hostage crisis in Tehran destroyed Carter’s chances for a second term. In 1980, former California governor Ronald Reagan handily defeated Carter with just over 50% of the popular vote in a 3-way race.  

If Carter was disappointed at his loss, he soon regrouped. Rather than stew over his defeat or attempt to persuade others that the 1980 election was “stolen,” he turned his considerable energies toward improving the lives of the world’s least fortunate. Over the years, the Carter Center has launched initiatives to reduce or eliminate six preventable diseases common in tropical climates. It is closing in on the elimination of guinea worm disease, having reduced the incidence of this debilitating parasitic infection from an estimated 3.5 million cases in 1986 to just 4 reported cases so far in 2024. Since 1989, the center also has monitored elections in 40 countries after having been invited in by the major political parties participating in those elections.   

from a Carter Center brochure

The 2024 U.S. election will mark my 15th presidential election cycle. By now I have cast the majority of my presidential election votes. I’ve supported winning candidates about half the time. I have lived through several policy reverses that I wish had not happened. Through it all, I’ve maintained a sense of hope and a belief in the importance of sound, sensible environmental stewardship. It seems to me, as it did to Carter nearly fifty years ago, that a transition to more responsible energy use is needed. I believe that a transition to renewable energy sources will continue, regardless of the 2024 election outcome. Eventually, regardless of who occupies the White House or any other country’s leadership, the world’s oil and coal reserves will be depleted. 

However, ingenuity and regard for our fellow humans and for the natural world that supports us are the ultimate renewable resource. Amidst all the hubbub and negativity, it’s important to avoid pointing fingers. It’s important to stay engaged. Democracy has always been an experiment, with some failures along with its successes.

Jimmy Carter’s faith is at the root of who he is as a person, regardless of any political position he might hold. I appreciate the bywords of this white evangelical, Naval Academy graduate, former nuclear submarine engineer, former peanut farmer, and former president from the rural U.S.: “My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to try to make a difference.”

I’m proud to have been a “Carter Democrat.” Mr. Carter, may your persistence and long-range vision continue to inspire those of us not yet to the century mark. Happy, Happy Birthday!    

Seven Harmful/Helpful Political Habits: 2022 Version

In 2014, I began writing a mid-term election “habits” post, trying to point out where I’d fallen short of good citizenship and what I might do to improve. Mid-term cycles since have produced different crises and different configurations of bad habits. Here’s this year’s version—

Citizens in a democracy are members of multiple levels of government, however we choose to view ourselves. Because voting is one cornerstone of democratic government, protecting the right to vote and participating in honest and fair elections are responsibilities we all share. As the political culture of the United States becomes more contentious, overheated rhetoric from multiple parts of the political spectrum threatens to overwhelm our common heritage and our common sense. I’m doing my best to stay engaged and informed, to reform my bad habits. Recognize some?  

1) Local politics does not matter. 

I can too easily focus on the “big” political races, glossing over the reality that the government level that impacts me most directly is local: voting rules and the placement of voting sites; budgets; tax rules and rates; school funding; zoning; the placement and maintenance of roads, parks, and greenways; economic development plans and procedures; environmental safeguards and incentives. In addition to “big” races, I also need to pay attention locally.  

2)  Politics is dirty. Most politicians are crooks. I don’t trust the system.  

Our national, state and local political scandals can seem endless. Journalists make reputations by ferreting out officials’ misdeeds. “Dark money” (large, difficult to trace contributions) can distort our elections. I often hear unsubstantiated claims of widespread voter fraud. It can be tempting to walk away from politics entirely, or to act out my frustrations with the system violently. 

Active citizenship demands both enthusiasm and restraint. I can play a useful part through small monetary donations, thoughtful social media posts, in-kind donations, and/or labor in support of candidates and causes of my choice. I can vary the sources of my “partial” news (almost never impartial or complete) to try to understand multiple perspectives. Most important of all, even when possibilities seem less than ideal, I CAN VOTE. The right to vote can be eroded through outright coercion, but also through disuse.  

3) Government can solve all our problems.

  I can let my expectations of government get overblown. Sometimes I fantasize that my elected officials can just snap their fingers and quickly reduce negative impacts of pandemics, globalization, or automation; can minimize unemployment while controlling inflation; can eliminate child poverty; can mitigate climate change; can usher in world peace. In more realistic moments, I acknowledge that expecting governments to do too much or too quickly can be self-defeating. I can nudge my elected officials in what I consider to be worthwhile directions. I can get and stay informed. I can make a small difference; many small differences DO add up.  

4) Government is the problem.

Sometimes I’ve lost my temper in conversations with “faceless bureaucrats” over regulations I thought were obsolete, needlessly harsh, or downright stupid. I can find parts of government maddeningly unresponsive, from the local to the federal level. 

It’s far easier for me to remember government actions that inconvenience me or limit my perceived choices than to remember valuable government services, from filling potholes on damaged roads to providing police, fire and military protection, to dispensing veterans’  benefits, to underwriting healthcare subsidies for the elderly and the poor. Governing is complex. Getting it “right” takes both hard effort and principled compromise. 

5) If we just elect the right candidates, all will go well. 

Voting for a successful candidate is no guarantee that the policies he/she advocates will get implemented. Our political system was designed to have checks and balances. Since the U.S. first became a nation, our national population has increased nearly a hundred fold. Officials at many levels represent increasingly diverse populations—in their districts, their state, or our nation as a whole. However much they want to serve their constituents and our nation well, the job is extremely difficult. (Personal attacks only make a hard job harder.) 

If I want the elected officials who represent me to reflect my views, voting is an important first step, but not the only one. I also need to remind successful candidates of my views on issues—coherently, respectfully, and repeatedly.

6) “Watershed” elections are crucial; some losses are irreversible. 

Of course it can matter which political party controls government appointments and legislative committee assignments. Of course congressional and presidential elections matter. However, as I’ve lived through more and more election cycles, I’ve come to believe that hyperbole about potential shifts in policy as a result of a single election can be counterproductive. Many substantive changes take decades or even generations. Conversations and disagreements in our society about the rights, responsibilities, and roles of minorities and women have existed since our beginnings as a nation. They continue to this day. 

I’m skeptical of overblown claims, both of potential disaster from a single election, and of single-election long-term gains. However, it is important to vote in EVERY election, not just the high profile ones. It is important to stay engaged, informed, and involved, regardless of who holds the presumed power at any given time. 

7) Politics is serious business, so we all need to engage in it with utmost seriousness.  

One casualty of recent enhanced nastiness in politics is the decline of the “smiling candidate.” Too often, our media feeds and social networks send us scowling images of “those others,” whoever various media algorithms have decided they might be. We need to remember that successful politicians of many different persuasions, from Ronald Reagan to Nelson Mandela, learned to take themselves lightly while taking their causes seriously. Even in these polarized times, it IS possible to be well-reasoned, polite, even humorous. A wise mentor once told me, “A smile is the shortest distance between two points of view.”  

As this midterm election cycle looms, please continue to do the vital work of reforming whatever your bad political habits happen to be. Above all, PLEASE make it a habit to keep your voter registration current, and PLEASE vote—in every election!      

Selective Memory and Finishing the Work We are In

Selective Memory and Finishing the Work We Are In  —by Jinny Batterson

I can remember parts of events that happened when I was much younger. On Friday, November 22, 1963, I was a Maryland high school student. I remember hearing our school principal start an announcement over the school intercom that day at an unusual time for announcements. I remember coming down the stairwell between the two floors of our building along with many other students changing classes. 

I don’t remember whether the announcement I heard while going downstairs was the first—that President Kennedy had been shot—or the second—that he had shortly afterward been pronounced dead at a Dallas hospital. I don’t remember whether school that day was dismissed early or whether school was canceled the following Monday for his funeral. I don’t remember much about that year’s Thanksgiving the following Thursday. 

Earlier in 1963, there had been a tense standoff between the nuclear-armed U.S.A. under Kennedy’s leadership, and the nuclear-armed U.S.S.R. under Nikita Khrushchev about the positioning of nuclear missiles on the island of Cuba, then led by Communist revolutionary Fidel Castro. I don’t remember whether my dad built a nuclear fallout shelter in our front yard before or after Kennedy was shot.  

Parts of our education when I was a student involved memorizing famous poems and speeches. I can recite most of a short Abraham Lincoln speech from a century earlier, first spoken in November, 1863 at a dedication ceremony for a military cemetery at the site of one of the U.S. Civil War’s deadliest battles:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are …testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and dedicated, can long endure.…The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. …It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us … that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

In the tragic days after Lincoln’s 1865 assassination, his Gettysburg speech was nearly forgotten. Later, the contents of the speech took on more importance. When the current Lincoln Memorial was dedicated in Washington, D.C. in 1922, the Gettysburg Address was inscribed on one of the monument’s inside walls.  

We are now experiencing another test of the viability of our democratic institutions. Each of us brings different memories to an ongoing impeachment inquiry. Witnesses and questioners interpret incidents differently, partly based on their training and point of view. Our current President ran for office touting the belief that our nation could return to a time when the U.S. was preeminent in global affairs. As an astute businessman, he could “fix things.” Some seem to think his position grants him nearly unlimited license to promote his own interests. Attempts to remove him from office are “character assassination.” Others less charitable to the President point out that our political system is based on checks and balances designed to restrict any one person or political entity from rigging the system to his own benefit, from “fixing things.” 

Absent from the immediate debates and questioning are considerations of the impacts of global over-dependence on fossil fuels to human and planetary health. Scientists tell us that both the United States of America and the rest of the world’s nations have only a decade or so to drastically curb our output of the climate-warming gasses produced by burning fossil fuels if we are to maintain a planet capable of supporting human life as we know it.

On another wall of the Lincoln Memorial is his second inaugural, delivered in March, 1865, just over a month before his assassination. We might be wise to remember its conclusion:  

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle… to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations. 

Regardless of the outcome of our immediate political crises, climate change requires all of us to strive on, using whatever tools of intellect, wealth, compassion, and ingenuity are at our disposal, to finish the work we are in.     

What We Pay Attention To Matters

What We Pay Attention To Matters     —by Jinny Batterson

Here in North Carolina, we have the option of voting early—this election cycle, nearly three weeks early.  On the very first day of the eighteen days set aside for early voting in the county where I live, I cast my ballot.  I’d earlier signed up to work as a non-partisan election official at one of the early voting sites in our county.  Mostly because of this temporary job (and because I need to spend at least some of my time sleeping), I’ve been sheltered from widespread exposure to news events and negative campaign advertising. This has proved to be a real blessing. 

Once I finish my early shift at about 2 in the afternoon, I come home, take a nap, take a walk, share an evening meal with my husband, then bed down early so I can repeat the cycle, starting at about 4:30 a.m. the following day.  I’ve been vaguely aware of hateful tweets and sporadic violence, but mostly I’ve spent my after-dark hours sleeping and my before-dark hours either working or enjoying the autumn weather outdoors. 

On the job, we’re forbidden to talk politics, a wise decision, I believe. Still, from some of the partial stories other workers have shared with me, I get the impression that we represent a pretty wide range of backgrounds and political persuasions. We have younger workers, some coping with student debt, others concerned about underemployment—mismatches between the skills they’ve trained for and the jobs they’ve found so far. We have middle aged workers who worry about aging parents and/or the fluctuations in their 401Ks in a volatile stock market.

The long and short of voting at a central NC early voting site

We come in all colors, shapes, and sizes, from a petite ballot handler to a former basketball center. Some older “temps” are retirees like me; others still work part-time, sandwiching in scant time for personal lives amid hectic work schedules. One of my 60ish coworkers has a vocabulary that suggests he may not have had the same chances for formal education that I did. His line of patter can sometimes border on bigotry, yet he spent some of his off-hours last week comforting a colleague whose wife had a terminal illness. 

Our range of voters also is wide—from the just-turned-18 to a frail elderly woman whose grandson wheeled her up the elevator and into the voting area to cast her ballot one more time. She was born in 1920, the year that women in the U.S. first obtained the right to vote in national elections.  We see office workers on their lunch hours, professors eager to encourage their students to vote, students puzzled about voting procedures, custodians, construction workers, and others whose dress and demeanor defy easy labeling. 

It would be unrealistic to believe that our democracy is in great shape. Being subjected to predictably inflammatory tweets, predictably bloody lead news stories, and predictably negative campaign advertising can be discouraging. Whatever the outcome of this current voting cycle, we will have lots of work to do to help heal some of the breaches in our social fabric, whether we are citizens or elected officials. Yet I’m encouraged by the civility of the voters and polling officials in the small corner of the electorate where I work. Many people DO show up to vote, over a million so far in North Carolina. They wait in line, sometimes chatting with each other. They’re glad to get their ballots and to make their opinions known.  Perhaps if we pay more attention to what’s going well, we may be in a better position to help alleviate what’s not. 

Tribute to Leonard Cohen

Tribute to Leonard Cohen (1934-2016)    —by Jinny Batterson

(Leonard Cohen, peripatetic Canadian poet and singer-songwriter, died in Los Angeles on November 7, 2016, a bit too early to absorb the results of the latest U.S. election.  I’m convinced, though, that his spirit still prowls. This short tribute incorporates snippets of several of Cohen’s best-known lyrics: Anthem, You Want it Darker, Suzanne, The Story of Isaac, and Democracy)  For a picture of Cohen near the end of his long life, see:

http://www.billboard.com/files/styles/article_main_image/public/media/leonard-cohen-2013-billboard-650×430.jpg

The bells that still will ring
These post-election days are ringing darker.
Though some the victor’s fulsome praises sing,
For others, the rifts are getting starker.

I saw him only once, we both were young.
In an Expo coffeehouse near Suzanne’s river,
He curled his raspy voice, lips, teeth and tongue
Around the credo that we lean toward love forever.

Bombastic tweets of blunt and bloodied hammering
May make hate and fear here for a time hold sway.
Yet, through the crack in everything
Democracy’s still coming to the U.S.A.